A Sadness Runs Through Him
by fromthehillbythelake
Summary: How many times can a person fall in love? Elianca. Imogeli. Keli. Eclare. Oneshot. Rating: T


**So, if Eli had a long track record, this oneshot is about how it would look like ;)  
(i love the crack! please forgive meeeeeee)**

**Enjoy, and I don't own.**

* * *

It ended because they were both in love with someone else.

She revs the engine, and the raven-haired boy shoots up an eyebrow in her direction.

"Dr. Doom," she catcalls, and his smirk widens.

-x-

They're grinding in the back of her car, small talk and pleasantries be damned.

He's hesitant, but her nails gripping his leather jacket and her red lips promising 'no strings,' has him undone – he took longer than to cave than other boys though, she has to give him that.

He stumbles out of the car a bit disheveled; hair a mess, lips swollen.

"Same time tomorrow then?" he grunts, a lopsided grin adorning his stupid face.

"Don't count on it," she snarks, and presses her foot on the gas.

-x-

It's hot and she's aggressive, but he keeps taking his damn time. Drew flashes in her mind, so she kisses him harder.

He's trailing his tongue down her stomach, but stops when she grabs a handful of his hair.

"Hurry up and _fuck me_," she demands. He obliges.

She doesn't want to think about the fact that he stays to hold her after.

-x-

"What's wrong?" he asks softly.

She remembers the first time she felt the desire to fuck him. She saw his face when Clare handed him back his leather jacket, Jake in between them.

His expression was all too familiar; she avoided it every day in the mirror.

"Nothing," she answers, and kisses him.

-x-

"I thought I told you not to fall in love with me," she smiles, giving his face a slight tap.

He tries to smile in return, but his mouth won't allow it.

"Relax emo boy," Bianca huffs, flipping her hair, "I always knew your badass reputation was highly inflated. _Goth prince_ can't even carry out a friends-with-benefits without his black heart getting in the way."

He chuckles, and her chest tightens unexpectedly.

"You've got me all figured out," he smirks.

_He's wrong_, she thinks. She's been with all kinds of guys – rough, controlling, harsh, dominating, scary men – knows exactly what they're about, and how to handle them. She likes to know what's she dealing with, and Eli Goldsworthy isn't what he seems.

She's angry with herself for the briefest of moments. There were days when she thought she could love him. Days when she forgot about Drew. They could work well together, she knew, if they tried. They'd both seen darkness, nearly had it swallow them whole. But they both survived it too, and put up a show for anyone who tried to climb their walls.

But he would always be in love with a blue-eyed girl, with fair hair, fair skin, and a cross dangling from her neck.

And Bianca is no saint.

She regrets that the only person she can call her friend has been inside her.

"Plus," he nudges her playfully, "you're not _really_ in love with me."

She smiles.

"So, you still promise to blow me if I get you those concert tickets, right?" he baits, knowing she won't blush.

* * *

It ended because they both thought they could change someone with their love.

"You mean, _Clara_?" she confirms, looking at him hopefully.

He nods. _Yes, fine, sure, whatever, just shut up_.

He's on top of her now, gripping her waist, and pulling moans out of her. But they're not breathy or languid or pure; she ceases his lips to giggle, naïve and a little dramatic.

He closes his eyes as tight as he can, but she just doesn't _feel_ the same.

-x-

He curls his mouth downward slightly, and she's reassuring him instantly.

"_What can I do?" _

"_You don't need them (his pills/his friends/his teachers)." _

"_We should go somewhere. Get far away from here, right?"_

She follows him endlessly; it used to be flattering, this adoring, loyal, obedient puppy applauding his every move and never questioning his actions. She liked what he liked, hated what he hated, and no matter what, she never held him in the wrong.

"I feel like some candy," he says, and buys every kind that she hates. He watches her eat every last one of them, only taking them from her when she looks like she might cry.

He frowns today, needing some comfort. She tells him _It doesn't matter, he's so much bigger than some stupid math test. He's going to be a writer, a world-famous writer that bumps best sellers right off the shelves._

She makes him feel like he can do anything. _Anything_, being the problem.

Then, she spins a lie about how she went through something similar. About how she understands. He knows, but doesn't care to challenge her.

-x-

"Stop trying to make me feel like less of a freak!" he shouts at her. He knows he's being cruel and sick and twisted and mean, but she's not his puppy anymore and it's increasingly annoying to have her stand up to him.

"I'm just trying to help! To understand!" And she's crying. Pitiful, wet tears.

"You don't know how to support me!" he scoffs. "You're not her! You do everything wrong! You're not my therapist, and I'm not your patient!"

She flinches as though she's been slapped. He's expecting her to look at him with doe eyes, a slight tremour in her chin, before scampering off.

Instead he hears, "I love you," so quiet and pathetic and the only time she's being honest in their entire relationship.

"Grow up, Imogen." He replies scathingly. Eli can't count all of his regrets on ten fingers, but this moment would be amongst them.

-x-

"Come over," he rasps low into his cell. It's 1:19 am, and he's drunk.

"Go to sleep, Elijah," she whispers, staying on the line with him.

He hangs up.

He'll kiss her sincerely tomorrow, to let her know he's sorry.

-x-

He doesn't fully realize how terrible he'd been to her until he met her dad.

"Dad…" her voice cracks when she hears her dad coming down the stairs, confusedly raging about his missing fork.

She bounds over to him, offering hushed words before she reaches into his jacket pocket to pull it out. He smiles. She grabs another fork from the kitchen and sticks it into her high bun, singing and pecking her dad on the cheek before bouncing over to Eli.

"Have a good day, princess," her dad waves, walking up the stairs again.

Eli doesn't snap at her when she asks him about his bipolar today. It's no wonder she lives in a world of pretend when her reality is so horrible.

She's attracted to the darkness of the mind, _his_ mind, because maybe he can make her feel better about accompanying her dad to the grocery store in their pjs all those years ago.

"_I hear voices too…"_

He hates when she spews that crap, but maybe, pretending for her justifies the way she had to grow up.

He thinks, again, that her black hair feels just like Julia's when he runs his hands through it.

* * *

It ended because they both hated themselves too much to love another.

He's craving intensity, and Katie Matlin screams it.

"Hey," he breathes, too hot and too close.

"Hey," she smiles, glancing at his throat.

"Why do you keep looking at me?"

She laughs. "I'm _not _looking at you."

"Six times," he rasps, eyeing her lips. "I've caught you looking at me six times today."

Her mouth tightens.

"I look at a lot of people."

"Mmhm," he smirks, and looks down between them.

Her whole jaw hardens. "You need to get over yourself."

"Or maybe you need to get under me," he answers smoothly.

She laughs, harder this time. "Take your hormones somewhere else."

He licks his lips. "Ever done something crazy?"

She looks smaller when she answers with a soft "No…" though quickly recovers.

Then he kisses her.

At first, she's stiff, every muscle coiled up. But after snapping back to catch a breath, when he's sure she's going to slap him, she pulls his mouth against hers once more.

-x-

He saunters over to her locker during the break between classes.

"Can I help you?" she asks coldly over her shoulder, not looking at him. Marisol's standing a few feet away, regarding him with disgust.

"No," he answers bitterly, like he didn't expect any differently.

-x-

She's doing a class presentation in English and he nearly loses it knowing that Katie Matlin, paradigm of organization and structure and control, likes it rough.

-x-

He laughs and asks her what she expected when all of Toronto finds out the scandals of their mayor.

_He's a politician_, Eli reiterates, and Katie's anger flourishes out of nowhere.

"Not all politicians are bad," she presses. He gives her a look.

Something changes between them after that, though she pretends nothing's wrong.

-x-

He complains about her music taste. She tells him to let people like what they like.

He complains about the A- he received in Ms. Dawes's class. She tells him at least four different ways to improve his piece.

He tries to hold her hand. She tells him _not here_, and _not now_.

He tries to tell her that he just needs someone to listen. She tells him that it's not her.

-x-

"You make me feel out of control," she says, like she resents him for it.

"That's the_ only_ reason you like me," he spits out haughtily. She doesn't disagree.

-x-

"Just _talk _to me," he growls. He just wants to hear some words that might make him stay. "I don't know who the hell you are."

"Just_ fuck_ me," she sneers at him, in a tone that says _you never will_.

He leaves, and he knows it's what she expected of him.

-x-

He wishes she didn't have blue eyes and she wishes he could understand why she has to be so mean.

He fucks her hard that night to try and make her feel, and she fucks him hard that night to try not to.

-x-

He finds her reading a book in the most reserved cranny of the library.

"Looking for an escape?" he asks lowly, and she looks smaller when she answers with a soft "Yes…"

She smiles at him over the pages, and his breath catches.

"I love books," she says warmly. "It's stupid, but I love reading and finding a quote that makes you think differently than you ever have before…that makes you unable to think a certain way again…"

He returns her smile, knowing whatever they had between them is over.

"You're sweet," she says to him. "You're a good person," she adds, as if to say _too sweet and good for me_.

It's scraps of kindness like this that make a person always tread carefully around Katie, in fear of having their head bitten off the next moment.

"I'm not that sweet," he laughs, though he chokes at the end.

"Not too sweet," she agrees, and puts the book down. He refuses to look at her when she gets up to hug him.

Then she pushes him into the chair opposite her, grinning mischievously.

"I'm thinking of dyeing my hair," she sighs, sitting back down to grab the book and curling a finger in her auburn locks.

"I think you should," he nods, shoving his hands into his pockets.

* * *

It ended with a kiss.

Their children are fast asleep while _their_ children are burning the midnight oil, and Eli and Clare Goldsworthy are wrapped up in bed together.

"Did you remember to lock up?" she asks him, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"If I didn't, we'll know in the morning," he answers groggily. "Hopefully whoever robs us will take that god-awful-"

Clare smacks his arm. "Oh shut up, you."

"Yes, m'lady," he smirks. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Clare sighs. "See you tomorrow, you handsome devil."

He rolls over to give her a great big wet kiss, and after a couple of giggles and love-bites, they fall asleep.

They were 91 and 92, and entirely in love.

-x-

* * *

**I hope this was alright. Lemme know :)**


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